St. Raphael's - July 8, 2012

Last Sunday was a busy day. In fact, the whole weekend was cramped and things were jamming up against one another left and right. I had a lot going on at home, was in the middle of several projects and couldn't afford to let the day get eaten up with any two hour and twenty minute revival service. I just sort of wanted to get church, 'out of the way'. I wanted to have done it, but I wasn't up for any sort of expenditure of energy or resources on my part. I wasn't up for challenge or threat, or really any intrusion into the existing momentum of my Sunday.

With that criteria, really, the choice was clear. The Catholics. I knew I could count on them for a 58 minute service. God has ordained that you shall not keep parishioners longer than one hour, or perhaps it was only the pope. I called dad the night before and lined up the church that met my needs. In addition, this was not just an ordinary Catholic church. This was the yuppie, hippie, richy-rich-church-in-the-hills church. I wanted to show my dad this place to broaden his perception of Catholics, and perhaps broaden his perception of church.

St. Raphael's has a beautiful location in the hills overlooking town. Its exterior is well landscaped, with pots and beds of flowers that are tasteful and almost grand. The building is large and in good condition; a 1980's design with an all cedar exterior and a large bent winglike floor plan. The worship area occupies the wing angled to the north east, and the large and well windowed community hall occupies the western wing. The south walls of the structure are taller than the north with large windows gathering lots of light. If I were designing a community hall for my gatherings, (and I wanted to say include a theater or other 'worship space'), this building would suit my needs perfectly.

We walked in on time, maybe 10 minutes early. We walked in through the community center, it wasn't quite clear from the outside which of the two main doors led where. Lots of subaru's in the parking lot. Lots of folks who looked just like us. In fact, we were some of the best dressed in our slacks and dress shirts. There were several people in sweatshirts and jeans, several guys wearing shorts, it was very casual. Very white also. Very clean. Not a lot of diversity and very upper-middle-income. If one of our daughters was husband shopping - this might be the place to come. I mean, if you had to shop at a church.

We took our seats in the amply padded and comfortable oak chairs. The individual seating was arranged in rows in the worship space in a sort of free-form pattern. The musicians off to the left were warming up. A guy in a Denver Bronco's jersey was playing a guitar. There was a thin lady with long hair warming up on a flute. Some guy had a tambourine. Really. Another guitar. Lots of former hippies, now doing well filled the room. Lots of young families also. Lots of little kids. By the time things got started, promptly at 9:30, there were maybe eighty people in the room.

The worship area itself has a soaring ceiling with equally soaring windows facing south. The seating faces the sacristy to the north where there's a giant statue of Christ on the Cross against the wall behind the altar. The statue was done in birch or some other white wood and easily Christ is eight or nine feet tall and very dramatically carved with ribs and muscles modelled in the extreme; a very pronounced wreath of thorns on his head and huge nails in hands and feet.

The daily bulletin was the best we've had so far. One of those big sheets of paper, folded in half, it was four regular sized pages of detailed and thorough information, all presented in a professional desktop publishing format on nice, recycled parchment colored paper. Everything was very comfortable and clean and and friendly.

We sang a song or two, or rather they did, I was happily able to maintain my own thoughts and just sort of coast. We stood, we sat, we stood again and sang again, we sat and then stood again. We repeated the Nicean Creed and sat again. The sermon was delivered by one of the two priests present. One priest was from India and had very dark skin, I'd say southern India. He spoke amazingly loud but was absolutely unintelligible, with everyone, including me, thought was great. The other guy had white hair, a clean shaven face and some sort of polish name. He had big loose features in a sort of child molester friendly sort of way. He performed the sermon and it was about how we should all go out into the world and be Christ, do as Christ would do and spread the good word. But in a very non confrontational sort of way. Like, maybe we should allow the woman in the post office with the car seat and the stroller to go first in line. But we were all going to do this anyway, right? He said his bit and we all nodded and smiled and then the hippie band played again.

They played well, someone had some sort of maraca in addition to the tambourine. It was a whole former hippie ensemble. Any my mind stayed blissfully rooted elsewhere. The sun was coming in, it was a nice place to be, amongst nice people, to be lost in my own thoughts.

Three young blond girls brought up 'the gifts', the bread and the wine. One was wearing a white dress and little leather high laced sandals. Another of the girls had her hair done with a pair of braids, one from either side of her head, brought around and joined in back over the rest of her long blond hair. They had a vague 'flower children' air. I watched the priest to see if he watched them but he was busying himself with the book. I'd like to say something that alludes to darker possibilities, but it really wasn't in the air. The sun was shining and the demons were absent.

The whole thing was perfectly uncompellling. Usually Dad and I take communion, but for some reason, neither of us did. I know my dad was as non-present as I was. The people around us went through the line and I was surprised at how many drank from the communal cup. But, if I had to drink from a communal cup here in town, that would be my cup of choice. Clean and friendly people. They looked as free of social diseases as they did of medical ones.

There was a brief period of announcements and the announcer asked for any visitors to please make themselves known. Dad and I sat quietly and everyone was just as happy that way. The recessional involved more tambourine and more flute and it was over. It was 10:28. Perfect, really. We were out the door, back into sunshine and a promising Sunday ahead. We had gotten what I wanted. We got church out of the way, like when you see someone you know at the store and you haven't seen them for a long time. You know you're going to have to catch up with them and a lot has gone on since you last saw them, but you don't really have the time or inclination to spend it talking to them. You meet eyes and are delighted to find that they are of the same attitude. You both nod and smile but then keep walking, both acknowledging the other in a pleasant way, and at the same time happily in agreement that the other is irrelevant in that moment.